Non-Erotic PoetryAnother Trial where does she go
butting her way
through madding crowds:
animals jostling.
does the "shaam" take over
when the day is done?
Maybe the night's
Dark is what she seeks.
a little
bouncy
ball
tripping lightly
floating away
like gossamer silk,
tendrils of thought
ravelling His mind
who is the judge
who the jury
why is there need
she is the Only.
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